


campfires and sunrises

by saltytangerine



Series: california nights [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 1960s, Alternate Universe - 1960s, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bottom Bucky Barnes, California, Car Sex, Come Eating, Fluff, Gratuitous Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Marijuana, One Shot, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Spit As Lube, Top Thor (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 02:07:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18955747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltytangerine/pseuds/saltytangerine
Summary: 1967, Bucky Barnes has graduated from high school and sets off for the west coast after declining a university position.“You’re a runaway?” Thor asks, sucking some ketchup from his thumb.“No— My parents know where I am, I’m 18, not 12.” He says with a little too much indignation.Thor grins and takes the joint from Natasha, inhaling deeply and leaning back against the sand, one hand behind his head. “Whatever you say, runaway.”





	campfires and sunrises

**Author's Note:**

> I blame [goandgetthegun](https://www;twitter.com/goandgetthegun)
> 
> may be the start of a series???

Indiana is kind enough to families, big and small, but to Bucky, it’s stifling and his acceptance letter from New York University to study engineering is still sat on the desk in his room, unopened.  
The east coast isn’t his style and his father pulled enough strings to get him an interview, even with his slipping grades. School stopped interesting him the very instant Chris kissed him under the bleachers in October. His lips tasted of cola and as soon as his tongue was in his mouth, he realized that the girls he had been kissing since fourteen were nothing compared to the brush of stubble against his chin while he was pushed up against the wooden support. When he pulls away, he offers him a joint and Bucky takes it gladly, feeling the warmth spread from his cheeks and down along his neck and sits through health class suitably chilled. 

He turns eighteen in the March and by April his parents are called in to discuss his grades and the rumors circling that he’s too generous with his mouth and hands with a few of the boys in the bathrooms and changing rooms. He denies all charges, knowing that every single accusation is founded in iron clad truths, but he doesn’t tell his mother. His allowance is cut and Winifred sits outside his bedroom door to make sure that he completes his homework. His favorite boy is called Steve, but he declares that he is going to art school in New York; the only reason that Bucky applies there. When he catches Steve on his knees in front of the new boy, however, he changes his mind and he decides that he will go to the opposite end of the country. 

“It’s 1967, ma, I can see who I like.” He argues when she finds out about Steve, and Josh, and Mark. 

“You were dating Betty all last year, what on earth changed?” She says, standing by the stove. Her apron is red gingham and Bucky thinks she looks ridiculous, like she hasn’t grown out of the 50s. He knows she won’t understand, and to try and explain everything is too exhausting as the mercury climbs come May. 

 

By the second week of May, he knows what he has to do. He graduates with a decent enough GPA, but he brings a rucksack to the ceremony and he kisses Rebecca’s cheek and tells her that he’s headed west in search of adventure with only $9 in his pocket. She grabs his wrist and tells him not to go, but his mind is made up and no coaxing will get him to stay. He’s stubborn and she knows, so she gives him the $2 from her purse and tells him not to hitchhike all the way to California. 

He hitchhikes anyway. The first two guys are nice enough and pick him up almost immediately. He keeps his bag slung over his shoulder, his thumb held out, his cut off denim shorts reach not even mid-thigh and his yellow t-shirt is one he stole from his sister, slightly too short in the torso. They ask where he’s going and he says west. Craig takes him all the way to the Kansas border and when he wakes Bucky from his sleep, his head resting on the window, he tells him he shouldn’t get another ride until morning. He offers him money for gas, but Craig smiles and tells him to use the money for a motel. 

Kyle takes him to Utah and asks for a blow job in return; Bucky shrugs and gets to work in the front seat of his Chevrolet. His dick is nothing to write home about, it’s not as thick as some he’s had and his come tastes bitter, but he’s considerate and doesn’t push Bucky’s head down or pull his hair too much. He drops him off at the bus station and once he decides on San Diego, he buys a $2.86 bus ticket and sleeps all the way there. 

It’s hot when he arrives on Wednesday afternoon and with the remaining money he buys a bag of chips and a bottle of orange juice. The acidity burns his throat as it goes down and he holds off on brushing his teeth in the public restrooms for a couple of hours. People smile while he walks along the seafront, and in the midday heat he pauses to take his shirt off and stuff it in his bag. He hasn’t planned a single thing and although he could find a motel, he’s sure that he could even sleep on the beach if he wanted. He’s never seen the sea, the closest he has been is when his family vacationed in Michigan and they stayed a mile inland from Lake Huron. Every morning for the four days they were there he walked the mile to the lakeside, with Rebecca, hand in hand. He takes off his shoes and gingerly steps into the ocean; the water isn’t as cold as the lake was and the waves lap gently at his ankles. 

He wants to swim and the water is calm. There’s nowhere to change out of his shorts though and although there are no children around, there are three people sat around a small fire to the right of him, about 20 yards away, so while they’re talking, he quickly switches his shorts, earning a whistle from one of the men. Pride blossoms in his chest and after his swim, he plans to join them. His skin doesn’t turn red in the summer; it browns evenly and he spends too long in the water, he’s sure, but it’s warm and he feels free for the first time this year. Eventually, he comes out of the water and still in his wet red shorts, he walks over to the group, carrying his bag. 

“You hungry?” One of the men asks, turning the hot dogs on the barbecue. 

He won’t say no to food and sits down on the sand between a woman and another man. “I could eat, sure.”

“I’m Clint, that’s Natasha—” He points to the redheaded woman, “and that’s Thor.”

Thor is a God, he’s sure. Sun bleached blond haired and blue eyed, tanned skin and an open plaid shirt. The soft ocean breeze billows his shirt out slightly and his hair is blown back away from his face. The beard suits him and Bucky thinks that it takes a certain type of face shape and person to pull it off.

“Bucky.” He finally says when Clint hands him the hot dog. He takes a bite and it’s the first substantial meal in three days. 

“Are you vacationing?” Natasha says, lighting up a joint, her eyes not leaving the glowing end as it catches. 

“Somethin’ like that; I graduated and I wanted to have some fun before I have to go back home.” He shrugs, eating slowly, feeling embarrassed at revealing his age.

“You’re a runaway?” Thor asks, sucking some ketchup from his thumb. 

“No— My parents know where I am, I’m 18, not 12.” He says with a little too much indignation. 

Thor grins and takes the joint from Natasha, inhaling deeply and leaning back against the sand, one hand behind his head. “Whatever you say, runaway.” 

 

They share it, passing it around, talking nonsense for hours and Bucky doesn’t even have a watch, but he knows that he’s been sat long enough in the sun that his shorts are dry and sticking to his thighs. He’s almost asleep when Clint throws water over the fire and some splashes on him, waking him up instantly. 

“It’s getting late, we need to hit the road if we’re gonna get to Oregon by tomorrow night." He holds out a hand for Natasha to take and for the first time, Bucky notices the pinks and purples in the sunset. The temperature has dropped slightly and he’s aware of the goosebumps on his upper arms. 

“Thanks for staying, man.” Thor’s voice is deeper than he remembers and he stands to hug both of them before they go to their car. 

“Later, runaway.” Natasha grins as she walks away and he feels his cheeks flush as he almost shouts goodbye to them. 

 

“Do you have a place to stay tonight?” Thor gathers up the beach towel he had been laying on and the bottle of rum that sits by the extinguished fire. 

“I don’t.” He confesses and helps him with picking up the trash. Thor is easily taller than Bucky, broader too and God, does Bucky have a type, and Thor fits right into it. Blond, tall and with arms and thighs that could easily crush him. 

“I got room in my van if you want to save money.” He looks at him and in that moment, Bucky knows that if he accepts, he’ll be safe. 

“If you’re sure.” He puts it across as if he’s worried about imposing, but the longer he looks at Thor, his sandy blond hair shaggy and long, a beard that looks like it could tickle the inside of his thighs, the more he wants to go to that van. 

“Follow me then.” They walk across the sand to the van parked on the edge of the beach, between two palm trees. Thor slides open the back door, revealing a mattress, a few blankets and a couple of scatter cushions. A small lantern hangs from the ceiling and a lilac sheer curtain hangs across the doorway.

Bucky takes a look back over at the ocean and he’s sure the sand is pink and the sky is turning in to purple instead of midnight blue, before climbing in to the back.  
The mattress is surprisingly not as uncomfortable as he thought it would be and he puts his bag in the space between it and the wall and leans back, with one of the cushions behind his head. 

“I’m gonna head out of here in the morning, you’re welcome to come.” He leaves the van door open when he climbs in and sits beside Bucky, opening the bottle and taking a swig of the rum. 

“Where’re you headed?” He asks, resting his hand on his lower belly, legs crossed at the ankles. He knows that his shorts make his legs look longer and his time in the swim team has left him lean and toned. 

“Just a little ways north, the cops keep reminding me I’m not supposed to sleep in this bad boy, so I wanna get out of the county.”

“You’re a regular criminal, ain’t you.” Bucky says with a grin and he takes the bottle from Thor’s grip, looking straight at him while he takes a long drink of the rum. It tastes like coconut with the distinct lack of smoothness that cheap rum carries. 

“You aren’t 21.” Thor takes back the bottle, his fingers brushing his and for a moment, Bucky feels electricity run through his fingers, up along his arm to his neck. 

“How old are you?” He turns the statement back on him and he watches Thor lay down beside him and rest his head on the cushion beside his head. 

“22; real old for you.” He says with the smallest of smiles and there’s a beautiful breeze coming through the door, billowing the sheer curtain that Thor had pulled across for the illusion of privacy. His hands are large but they’re warm when his left hand rests on Bucky’s waist. “Tell me if I’m reading this wrong—”

“You aren’t.” Bucky quickly shakes his head, but he’ll be damned if he’s the one that moves first. 

 

The kiss doesn’t surprise him, but the gentleness does. Thor’s hand moves from his waist to rest at his cheek and his beard against his skin feels like a soft scratch when he deepens the kiss and he slides his tongue over his. The salt from the sea curls his dark hair and Thor’s fingers get caught at the back of his head and he groans as his hair is pulled softly. He’s sure he’s been kissing him for at least thirty minutes when he feels his hand move from his hair to slide down along his chest, his thumb brushing over his nipple, earning a soft gasp from him. He wraps his arms around Thor’s neck and his shorts feel far too tight over his crotch.  
The breeze laps at Thor’s back, he’s half on his side, almost on top of Bucky, his own jean shorts tight over his hips and thighs. “We gotta get away early in the morning.” He mumbles into Bucky’s mouth, but his hand is still moving south and his palm drags across the front of the red shorts. 

“Let me jerk you off and we’ll go to sleep, I promise.” Bucky chases his lips when Thor goes to pull away, moving his hands from their place at the nape of his neck and unbuttoning his shorts. 

“How could I say no to that offer.” It isn’t a question and as Bucky’s hand reaches into his shorts and finds no underwear, he squeezes Bucky through the shorts, not slipping his own hand under the waistband. 

His dick is thick in his hand; he knows his hand is soft, and Thor’s eyes flutter shut as he starts to stroke him, twisting his wrist slightly when he gets to the head. He rocks into his fist gently, still content to only keep his hand over the Bucky’s shorts, even as he tries to push up into his touch. It’s too light and Bucky licks his lips, watching his face as his lips part and his breath starts to come harder and faster. His thumb massages the sensitive spot just under the head and drags it up over the slit, spreading the beads of precome around. 

“Touch me, I swear—” He whimpers when he squeezes him a little tighter, the friction of his shorts against him welcome and an improvement on his feather-light touches.  
Thor swallows down Bucky’s words as he kisses him again, wrapping his right arm around his waist. Bucky’s sure that he could pick him up and toss him about if he let him, from the feel of his bicep against him. He feels a wet patch start to grow on the front of his shorts and the soft grunts that come from Thor as he fucks into his hand is intoxicating. He feels the drag of his fingernails as he cups his balls through the fabric, earning a hiss from him, against his lips. His hand moves faster under the denim and Thor’s hair is longer than his as he tangles his fingers in it. He drinks in every noise he makes and he comes hard, inside his shorts, pleasure washing throughout him and his hand’s rhythm falters momentarily, but it doesn’t matter because Thor lets out a punched out groan and Bucky feels his cock twitch in his hand and a wet warmth on his hand. 

He takes his hand out of his shorts and while Thor leans back, cheeks and chest flushed, Bucky licks the come that’s left on his hand, his blue eyes watching Thor, who can’t look away. He laps it off his skin and peels his shorts off. The stickiness is something he can tolerate as long as he wipes it off quick enough, but before he can push him away, Thor is licking along his softening dick, and God help him, he could come again, but it’s too much and he pushes his head away and finishes cleaning up with the clean side of his shorts.  
“You’re doing my laundry.” He says softly, kissing Thor’s cheek and blushing when he turns his head and their lips meet again. 

“Sleep.” Thor says quietly, stroking back his hair, only pulling away when Bucky rummages for underwear in his bag. “Really? Underwear?”

“You want me to go without?” He looks back at him and grins. 

“Just shorts, in case I want to touch you in the morning.” Thor leans over and wraps his arms around him, kissing along his neck, but letting go when Bucky sways his hips and pulls out a pair of white shorts. 

“Will these do?” He holds them out for Thor to inspect. They’re thin and Bucky lost the drawstring months ago. The slit along the bottom of the hem is a little higher than his other shorts, but they frame his thighs perfectly and when Thor touches the material, he nods.

“Yeah I think I can work with those.” 

Bucky pulls them on and with a yawn, he lays down and lets him pull him against his chest. It’s warm and comforting and with the curtains rippling in the warm breeze, he falls asleep quickly to the rise and fall of Thor’s chest. 

 

They both wake before dawn is fully upon them and Thor brushes his teeth outside the van, spitting into the sand. He squeezes some toothpaste onto Bucky’s toothbrush and for a moment it feels oddly intimate until he takes a mouthful of water from his flask and swishes it around in his mouth before spitting that out too. He changes his shirt to a light pink short-sleeved button down, tropical print woven into the cotton. He leans against the side of the van while Bucky brushes his teeth too and when Bucky pulls on the yellow shirt, Thor climbs into the drivers seat. 

“Shut the door and get up here, we’ll hit the highway and I’ll take you swimming when we cross the county line.” He starts the engine and it isn’t the healthiest engine Bucky’s ever heard, but he failed drivers ed twice. He slides the door shut and walks around to the passenger side, where Thor tosses a bottle of water into the back and a couple of notebooks.  
He sits next to him and the smile that Thor gives him makes his cheeks hot and his heart race a little. He takes the map that Thor hands him and opens it up as they drive off. 

The windows are wound down as far as they’ll go and Bucky rests his arm over where the glass is down. Thor doesn’t drive excessively fast and the warm air that rushes through the window tousles his hair and refreshes him as they drive through the morning. They make light conversation and Thor talks about growing up in a beach house in Santa Cruz with his parents and brother. In return, Bucky tells him about his sisters and the three bedroom townhouse his parents bought, thinking there would be enough space for just Bucky and Rebecca, until his younger sisters were born. He tells him about Steve and Thor tells him about his parents eventually throwing him out of the beach house with green eaves and a large porch. 

Thor turns off at an exit and drives them down a narrow road, following it until Bucky can see the ocean again. “This was my favorite place to bring boys when I was a teenager.” He says with a gentle tone of fondness. He spreads out his hands, gesturing to the view of the ocean and the pale sand. They could be anywhere in the world,on the shore of a Pacific island, Australia, but no, they sit barely two miles from the highway. 

“You brought me to your old make out spot?” He grins when Thor rests his hand on his thigh. 

“I brought you north of the county line and away from the general public, isn’t that enough?” He reaches into the glove compartment and takes out a small paper bag and takes out a pre-rolled joint. “Natasha has great fingers for rolling these. Get in the back.” He cocks his head backwards, towards the back of the van and busies himself with finding a lighter. Bucky doesn’t need to be told twice and climbs back and slides open the door to the back of the van. 

Thor’s too tall to fit through the gap between the front seats, so he lights up and walks around the van, pushing the curtain to the side to climb in the back, his shorts are still unbuttoned and when he lays on his side, beside Bucky, his shirt is open, and all Bucky wants to do is run his hand through the blond hairs on his chest.  
After a couple of drags, he puts it between Bucky’s lips and when Bucky takes it, he leans his head on his hand, watching him. He runs his hand down along his chest again, dipping his fingers just below the waistband of his shorts and when Bucky turns his head to look at him before exhaling, Thor shakes his head and just gently paws at the skin just under his shorts. 

Bucky’s eyes grow heavy and he passes it back to Thor, mirroring his actions, placing the end between his lips, watching as he inhales. He doesn’t want him to move his hand from its place on his lower belly, the tips of his fingers brush against the base of his cock now and then so he lets Thor take drags while he holds the joint.  
They finish the first one and Bucky throws it out of the window and when it’s gone, Thor leans down to kiss him, his cheeks are red, he knows, and he’s getting hard just from his kiss and the threat of his hand so close to him.

He parked the van in a secluded enough spot, among the trees, not quite fully on the sand and when he glanced at Thor’s watch, it last said midday. He can hear people shouting as they swim in the sea but when Thor’s thumb runs over his lips and his four day stubble, he can think of nothing but the cushions under his head and Thor’s hand as he finally touches him. 

His shirt rides up when he stretches under him, and Thor pulls down the white shorts, just enough to reveal him. Bucky almost thinks he looks hungry when he gently pushes him onto his side and gently pulls his cheeks apart. His first instinct was right; Thor’s beard against the sensitive skin between his cheeks feels exquisite, soft but scratchy at the same time, the slight irritation soothed by his tongue dragging over his hole, wet and flat against him. His eyes snap shut and he pushes his face into the pillow as Thor begins to lap over his entrance, starting just behind his balls and finishing the stroke at his tailbone. The tip of his tongue presses against where he’s tightly closed, although with how relaxed he is, he’s sure that he won’t need much coaxing to open him up. 

“Are you a virgin?” Thor lifts up his head, sucking on two fingers and pressing them against his puckered hole. 

Bucky shakes his head and realizes that Thor probably can’t see. “No—” his breath catches in his throat when the tips of his fingers start to press in and when he remembers to breathe, he speaks again. “Week before my birthday, this guy I was seeing, he fucked me in his parents bathroom.” 

“Is that all?” He sounds genuinely interested as he moves his fingers in and out, stretching him, the tightness soon dissipating and he runs his tongue around where Bucky’s body stretches around the fingers. 

“We were doing it instead of gym on a Thursday, then on a Saturday, after I came back from temple—” He’s cut off when Thor curls his fingers and nudges against his prostate and Bucky’s acutely aware of how hard his dick is between his legs, sitting forgotten. 

“Good.” Is all he says as he kisses up along his back and takes his fingers out. Bucky knows exactly how big he is, he can remember the weight in his hand and he wants to hold his breath when he feels the blunt head against him, but Thor’s chest against his back is comforting and he breathes slowly as he slides in slowly. The initial burn fades as soon as the first half is in, and he feels Thor’s breath warm and heavy at the nape of his neck. Thor doesn’t push his shirt up and his shorts sit around his thighs as he drives himself in all the way with a soft grunt against Bucky’s ear. “Bucky, baby, it’s so tight, so fuckin’ hot.” He says, holding himself in all the way as Bucky’s body clenches around him as he adjusts. 

“You’re bigger than him.” He feels himself flush red and when the irritating stretch disappears, he pushes his hips back against him, swaying his hips back so he’s nestled in his lap. “I want you to fuck me.” It’s breathy and Bucky instantly feels childish in his demand.

It’s a dragging feeling as Thor starts to move, he’s tense only for a moment, loosened by Thor’s lips against his neck. There’s gentleness in his movements and even as thick as Thor is, Bucky’s quickly past the uncomfortable stage and his eyes are closed, letting out the quietest of moans against the cushion, gently rolling his hips in time with his.  
The midday sun is hot, but they’re under the trees, casting shade on the van but the smell of weed still lingers in the back and the salty tang of sweat grows as they keep moving. Beads of sweat roll down the back of Bucky’s neck and Thor instantly licks them up, his movements speeding up and when Bucky lets out a loud whimper, he immediately puts his hand over his mouth. “This isn’t a motel room, sweetheart.” He reminds him and when Bucky nods, he moves his hand away. 

He pulls out and Bucky whimpers again, mourning the loss and feeling of emptiness, but Thor just turns him onto his back and quickly pulls his shorts all the way off so he can spread his legs and tilt his hips just slightly and slide back in. Bucky throws his head back as he slides back inside with one swift motion. He arches his back slightly, clenching around him but the new angle lets Thor fuck up into him, keeping constant stimulation on his prostate. His cock bobs between his legs, the tip brushing just under his navel, smearing the precome that leaks out steadily. The red flush spreads down along his chest and Thor rests his hands on either side of his neck and leans down to kiss him hard, squeezing his neck gently. “I’m not gonna come in your ass, it’s either going on your face or in your mouth, you can choose.” 

His whole body shudders at his words and when Thor’s large hand wraps around his cock, he almost loses the ability to speak. His breath feels difficult to catch and his lips brush Thor’s as he pounds into him, and tugs his cock, bringing him to his second orgasm since meeting the man less than 24 hours ago. His heart races in his ears and he waves that run through him are intense, his thighs shaking on either side of Thor’s hips. He can feel his body almost try to milk his cock as it’s buried inside him, and he feels the thick come pool on his stomach. “In my mouth—”

Thor looks down and with the tips of his fingers, he scoops up some of the white from Bucky’s stomach and pushes his fingers into his mouth, past his parted lips. Bucky doesn’t flinch and sucks his fingers clean immediately but his eyebrows furrow as the feeling of being fucked is too much. He pushes against his chest gently and Thor takes the hint and pulls out, briefly running the pads of his fingers over his puffy entrance. Bucky shudders and closes his thighs, still catching his breath, but before he can turn away completely, Thor grabs him by his hair and guides him over to his own hard cock. He’s so close to finishing that when Bucky wraps his lips around him, he’s stroking the base in time with Bucky’s head and it is only a matter of moments before he grunts out his warning and Bucky swallows down his load too. His hand is firm at the back of his head, but not pushing, not forcing him down, left there as a reassurance for the both of them. Thor pulls away when he’s finished and he watches as Bucky swallows, his throat bobbing slightly as he does. He leans back against the wall of the van, panting quietly, before stroking Bucky’s cheek.  
He rests his head on Thor’s lap and his breathing evens out as he relaxes against him. He can barely hear Thor’s voice as he talks, instead, he settles for nodding and letting out a quiet yawn.

He isn’t sure how long he’s been asleep for, but when he wakes, they aren’t in the same spot under the trees as they were when he fell asleep. He looks down and he sees that Thor had pulled his shorts back on him and when he looks out of the window, he can see a small campfire on the beach and Thor’s familiar frame sat in front of it. When he steps out of the van, he winces a little, but after a few barefoot steps in the sand, he ignores it. 

“Mornin’ sleeping beauty.” Thor smiles, patting the space next to him. Bucky sits on the towel beside him, leaning heavily over on his right side and rests his head on Thor’s shoulder. “Are you hungry?”

“Yeah, you didn’t even feed me.” He gently nudges him with his elbow, looking out over the sea, the sun starting to dip below the horizon. 

“I got takeout.” He hands him a paper bag and Bucky gladly takes out the burger and bites into it. 

“This is good.” 

“I’m glad; we'll swim in the morning.” His arm wraps around his waist, like it was always meant to be there and he leans his head to the side so it rests against Bucky’s. The fire crackles quietly and with no one else on the beach, he places a kiss to the crown of his head, nosing the dark waves. The burger isn’t piping hot and the fries are cold in their wrapper, but the fire is warm and so is Thor’s grip. The sun sets and as the fire dies down, they lay together, under the stars, Thor naming each of the constellations and Bucky is sure that this summer will be a good one.

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on twitter, saltietangerine, where I bitch about the amount of WIPs I have, and stan Bucky Barnes and pre-serum Steve Rogers.


End file.
